


The Archery Competition

by InnerSpectrum



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Archery, Female John Watson, Prince Sherlock Holmes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:47:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25147201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InnerSpectrum/pseuds/InnerSpectrum
Summary: Johanna Watson was new to life in the citadel. With her best friend in tow, their names were rising within the circles of LeadCourt where the noble ladies start to vie for their designs. The clothing storefront hid the back door of Johanna's talent for healing learned from her grandfather, along with archery. While the poor and desperate don't care who heals them, in the citadel, both are pursuits considered worthy only of men. Archery would have her outcast, healing would get her hands badly damaged as punishment, or worse. Still, Johanna's desire to help those in need is larger than her fear.All was well until their home and livelihood were destroyed in tragic fire by a spiteful patron because Johanna caught the eye of irritating Prince Sherlock whom she cannot stand. Afraid to accuse a noble and unable to prove it, Johanna is homeless and enraged. Desperate for funds to rebuild Johanna disguises herself as a man to enter the annual archery competition where she believes can earn coin in side wages and drop out. But she is competitive and the mysterious challenger, Tobias Gregson, threatens her when he realizes her true identity and she realizes Tobias is Prince Sherlock in disguise.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & John Watson
Comments: 17
Kudos: 38





	1. The First Rounds

**Author's Note:**

> This idea came to me over a year ago, it bounced around and then sat languishing. I decided to go for it and post.

The playing field air is crisp with the herbal smell of fresh cut greens. It helped to lessen the foulness of the other smells.

Johanna breathes deep, almost as much as to enjoy the earthy scent of the hard-packed grounds of the field, as to calm her much frayed nerves. She has mingled among the men and so far, none seemed to guess a fraud was among them. Average of height and build, in her disguise as Hamish, from the Plains, she did not stand out. Her strong jaw gave credence to the masculinity the smoothness of it did not. Though she would have given nearly anything at that moment to release the tight binds that held her breasts in place, adding to the disguise. Her sandy blond hair pulled tight and hidden under the deep hooded doublet and a few days of not bathing had helped. Luckily, at least from what she could smell, the barely washed state was common for many of the out of town men who arrived solely for the yearly tournament.

Still, she stayed to herself as much as possible avoiding conversation. She knew much of her fellow competitor’s lives as it was, while giving next to nothing of her own. The more she spoke, the more she was likely to slip up, she could not risk it.

_I have enough troubles; it is why I am here in disguise._

She certainly could not explain she needed the money to replace the lodgings burned to the ground just barely two moons ago. That would easily give her identity away in more ways than one, for there was still talk of it even now at the Festival.

She could all but still smell the charred remains of her home and its belongings from when she rode past the lot a few days ago. The scorched earth of what was her herb garden.

_Oh! Those Eglantine bolts!_

She bemoaned the loss the bolts of materials gifted to her from abroad, which she had in the seamstress part of the shop that was the front for her physician practice. Out in the plains few cared who healed you as long as they were healed. Here in the bustling city, let alone the citadel, it was solely the providence of men. That too was among the burnt remains of what once was.

The fire was hot enough to char and twist the metals of her knives. The oil used to accelerate the process could still be scented. Though she could not prove it – yet, Johanna just knew the Lady Adler was somehow responsible for the damage. How was she to know someone as powerful as Lady Adler had not been invited to the royal gala when she asked if she wanted a gown for the event? It was spoken in casual innocence when she revealed that someone as lowly as she had been invited but turned it down because she could not work on gowns for the other attending ladies and one for herself. You do not give slight, however unintended, to such a woman without repercussions. Still, to utterly destroy her home and livelihood to such lengths seemed a bit not good. Johanna would leave the citadel and slowly rebuild elsewhere. Perhaps by then the woman will be over the sting.

But first she had to win more coin at the tournament.

_I can barely wait to get out of these dirty men’s garb and back to my own world._

_Not much longer_.

“Not much longer now and the competition begins in earnest eh, Hamish?”

Another hooded figure plopped down not far from her on the bench as if reading her thoughts. 

_Arse!_

There was something grating about this one, Sir Tobias Gregson was his name. He claimed he hailed from a land nearly a fortnight’s travel. There was something about him that struck her as odd. It was more than just his limp, and the semi-squeak to his voice that annoyed her greatly, but she could not quite put her finger on what it was about the man that set her off. Until she could figure it out, she knew she needed to be wary.

She grunted a non-committal reply, but Tobias was right. When the tournament started the targets were very easy. The distances clearly designed to quickly weed out the wheat from the chaff among them. The side bets alone had put a nice amount of coinage in the purse safely secured inside the waist of her breeches. Even if she forfeited the remainder of the tournament, she was considerably ahead of the game than when she entered. However, she was not near the set goal. She had to make it through the next few rounds to attain enough coins to meet her needs.

“Not much of one who speaks are you?” Tobias mused. “From what plains say you again?”

Johanna was grateful for her own hood shielding what she knew was a scowl as she tried to put the troubling puzzle of this man together.

“Me say not once,” She responds gruffly, willing the deep voice of her friend Benedict to come through over her own. “Me say not again.” She stands, grabbing her bow and quiver ready to go elsewhere than engage in idle conversation.

 _This Tobias was nearly as irksome as the prince_!

“Stay good fellow. Stay. Just seeking time to pass and to perhaps deprive you of some of that you earned so quickly in the early rounds.” Even hooded and heavily bearded, Tobias’ his lip twisted in a challenge that mocked.

_What is it about him?_

Johanna said nothing, but sat down and waited, he would speak again, she knew it.

“You've a good bow and arm, but you are a small man. It will take power from these rounds on.” Tobias continued. It took all Johanna had to not laugh loudly at such a blatant display.

Tobias smiled, “Fifty pounds you do not make the next round.”

That took the humor out of it.

_Fifty pounds? Insulting!_

She purposely slouched ignoring the insult, knowing it would annoy Tobias. The slouch had shifted the rolled-up stocking. After nearly a week of being guised as a man, it was only after she cupped herself and adjusted it back into place had she realized she had done so. She still considered it a disgusting thing to do in front of a lady, but now she had a better understanding of how it was done without thought.

“You dare not accept?” Tobias challenged, only to receive a derisive snort as response. 

“Now, you dare insult.” There was an edge in Tobias’ voice, she felt needed heeding.

“Fifty pounds? No, insult, you dare.” Johanna stayed in character as she sat up. “That is for one afraid. Two hundred pounds, the next set me clear, mark higher me than you.”

Tobias roared with false laughter, covering the insult returned to him.

“If more than is...” She challenged him.

“Two hundred say you?” Tobias cut her off. Johanna nods once, barely keeping her smirk in check.

Tobias pulls out his purse and calls out the wager among the other challengers also waiting. A countierre takes all markers just as the fanfare starts marking the next round. Johanna watches as Tobias limps heavily over to where he laid his bow. Just as she, he was checking his equipment. She checked the tension and flex of her hand carved bow. The grandfather of her grandmother’s grandfather had hand carved this very bow. Having no sons, and although it was against tradition to teach such to females, he secretly taught his daughter archery. She in turn taught her daughter and so it went through the generations. Now it was Johanna who was the latest benefactor of this knowledge. It was a beautifully carved bow, worn dark and smooth over the decades of use and very strong. Still, it looked very much like a child’s toy compared the beauty of Tobias’ bow. A man from where he claims as home, would not appear to be a man who could afford such a beautiful weapon. Johanna guessed he either won it or earned enough in other tournaments to own one. Had she not witnessed his ease of skill with it, the fact that he owned it was a testament to his skill alone. Few would invest the funding necessary for such a weapon if they could not make good with it.

Johanna did a fast mathematics in her head, realizing if she won this round, she would have met her goals on wagers alone and could easily afford such a weapon, however, she had more important plans for the funds. Once she had the desired coinage, she would purposely lose the round after and get out of there with not one these men the wiser.

_Stay the course Johanna._

There were six score of challengers in the early rounds when the festival began three days ago. There were less than a score of challengers remaining. They drew numbers to determine order. Tobias grimaced upon determining he would be the last to play, right behind Hamish. Johanna merely grunted tossing the chit back into the bag for later rounds.

Unlike this morning when the sun was behind them, the afternoon now places the sun in their line of vision. A warrior or hunter does not always have the advantage of waiting until he can see more clearly and must aim true in all conditions. Johanna sends a silent prayer of thanks to the heavens that at least this tournament was not in the rain. The only way this could have been better is if all of the royals were there to watch. Generally accomplished archers in their own right, it is not often that a king or a prince will miss the archery competition, but it is not unheard either. Crown Prince Mycroft and most of the Lead Court was there, even if King Sieger and his youngest son, Prince Sherlock, were not.

_Prince Sherlock – now there was a troubling challenge._

While rumors of his stunning intelligence had proven true, also was his abject rudeness. Many called him aloof, but the tall, elegant, handsome pale-eyed monster could seem to do naught but bedazzle her with his acuity one moment only to find ways to bedevil her temper the next. Johanna was still amazed she had not been put in stocks when infuriating man frustrated her so badly, she had cursed in court. Especially, when in her anger she displayed no contrition for the act. It was Lady Hooper, her adoration of Prince Sherlock was near tragic considering how abjectly brutal was the prince in his unrequitedness, who soothed both of their ruffled feathers that day.

Perhaps the best part of her home’s destruction was that she had not seen, nor heard from the prince in the weeks since. A part of her wondered what the enigmatic brute would think of her being here, hiding among the male archers of the realm and doing a rather decent job of it. Prince Mycroft, a stickler for protocol, would be livid of her flaunting the rules of this man only sport. Prince Sherlock, unconventional man he is, would likely find it quite the fun jape.

Johanna shakes thoughts of the bedeviling man away and returns to the matter at hands.

The first of the set of three rounds she still found to be easy. The number of challengers dwindles to ten quickly. The second set brought the number to seven with Tobias and Johanna in a comfortable lead along with three others.

She observes Tobias as he shoots. Obviously, he is an accomplished archer. His entire form is that of someone who has done this for many years. These targets coming easy to him as well. Like her he wore a little too much clothes for such a lovely day, still it was not enough to hide the solid body beneath it. She had to concentrate to keep her eyes from straying as she tried to find what it was about him that seemed familiar.

After the third round of the set, Tobias and Sir Lestrade tied in the lead. Johanna trailing by one point. The remaining four archers were eight or more points behind her score. It would be excellent scores for them, but not winning scores.

Sir Lestrade was next, his first arrow makes it just inside the center circle. Tall and rugged with thick hair that was turning silver too soon. Sir Lestrade, one of the top knights in LeadCourt was known for his honesty, compassion and loyalty. No one was surprised he made it this far in the competition. His second arrow hits next to his first. Johanna knows even if Sir Lestrade misses the target now, his score will carry him to the next set. She also knows Sir Lestrade is very aware she and Tobias are the ones to worry about in the next rounds. If Sir Lestrade wants to continue, every point is going to count.

He must hit the bullseye.

Johanna and Tobias watch from opposite sides of Sir Lestrade on the field as he notches for his third pull. The tension in his stance is palpable and all can tell the arrow was released sooner than anticipated. 

_The gods are on your side Sir Lestrade – bullseye._

You could see Sir Lestrade's relief as he nods towards Johanna.

Johanna sizes-up the target carefully, it is mid-range, one she knows she can hit, but she wants to beat Tobias’ score. She aims and let her arrow fly. It is clearly inside the circle, but not the bullseye. She takes aim again and remembers to breathe this time – bullseye. Peripherally, she sees Tobias crouch down to watch the next shot. She turns her head to the crouched man and nods once before letting the arrow fly.

_Bullseye._

What she can see of Tobias’ expression is priceless as Johanna takes the top spot while the crowd breaks into applause. They pass each other and Johanna pauses for a moment staring at what little could be seen of Tobias’ face under his deep hood. The many days’ growth could not hide the jaw line beneath it. Still, it was Tobias’ lips that held Johanna’s attention. There was something familiar in its set, which made her want to…

She stopped the train of thought immediately, chastising herself.

_God! Of all the times to think of such things?_

“Fare you well, Hamish?” Tobias asks. Johanna grunts an answer and continues walking.

As she is in the lead now, it is Johanna’s turn to crouch as she watches Tobias. He needs to make two bullseyes to continue, but all three to tie her score and win the wager. There was nothing she could do but watch as Tobias easily makes the first. He shifts on his feet slightly, that which causes his limp obviously starting to affect his stance, but not enough as he struck true again. Johanna watches nervously twirling an arrow between her fingers as Tobias notches his arrow for the third shot. She catches herself and stops the twirling. She cannot see his eyes under the hood, yet knows he looks at her quizzically for a moment before returning his focus to the target ahead.

Just like Sir Lestrade, she could see it in the set of his jaw that the release was too soon. Unfortunately, his luck was not the same as Sir Lestrade's; Tobias’ arrow landing just outside of the center circle.

Johanna breathes with relief as the archers who just made coin congratulate her. Tobias nods his praise and she returns the nod as the countierre places her winning purse in her hand.

_Christ! The weight of it!_

_Surely, I have near enough to fulfill my needs now._

She glances around the courtyard as targets are set at a greater distance. Johanna knows her skill and knows she could make these as well. She weighs the purse thoughtfully before tucking it away securely in her doublet.

_There was so much more coin to be made here!_

Greed is not a feeling that sits well with her and she just as quickly abandons the thought, to stay with her original plan. One final round to be sure and then forfeit.

At this new distance, the four archers who trailed the three leads were out of the running completely by the first round of the set. Three gloriously missing the target completely and one hitting the target near the bullseye but knew he could not hope to catch up to the leads and bowed out. From here on the game was between Sir Lestrade, Tobias and Johanna.

The three drew chits again for shooting order, Sir Lestrade, Tobias and then Johanna.

Sir Lestrade hit three bullseyes. Tobias hit two bullseyes and a center circle; they were tied. It was Johanna’s turn. She hits dead center first shot, without really trying. She makes a show of aiming but simply let the arrow go, hitting center circle, but not bullseye on the second shot. She felt, rather than saw Tobias’ eyes on her. The announcer jokes that perhaps Hamish is not up to the challenge and wishes to bow out, much to Johanna’s visible chagrin.

She hears Tobias as he stalks up to her.

“Oh, do you play false!" He growled in her ear, “You are not trying, _Hamish_. Was that always the goal, solely to earn coin?”

“My concentration disturbed, sir.” Johanna responded in character, purposely not answering the question.

“You deigned to step into this man's pool, you will now swim in it to the best of your ability or I will expose you on this field for the fraud you are… _Lady Watson_.” The last hissed low in her ear without hesitation.

_He knows!_


	2. The Reveal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Under threat of being revealed and losing everything Johanna continues to play, but soon realizes her true identity is not the one on on the line.

Johanna just barely held her composure, fear and fury at the threat battling within.

“Nod now if you trust not the man in you to speak.” The sarcasm was cutting. Tobias’ sharp smile under the hood was pure malice as she nodded slowly, indeed not trusting herself to speak.

Tobias calls out to the closest countierre.

“I wager Hamish of The Plains four hundred pounds that he not makes the bullseye again, any takers?”

Play is delayed while wages are made. In the midst of it, he turns again to her.

“This game is now between you and I. Play it true or play it not at all to your peril.”

There is a call for silence and the entire crowd is watching at that moment. Still, there was only one pair of eyes she felt as she simply pulled back on the bow and let fly. She did not bother to look up, letting the roar of the crowd give her the answer she already knew.

Bullseye.

They were now in a three-way tie.

Tobias nodded at her even as he handed over coin for his loss. Johanna accepted the additional coin and placed it with previous earnings.

Johanna checked her bow as targets were moved again and an idea struck. She walked the Lead Court booth, there was only one who could approve what was about to be asked of them.

“Hamish of The Plains, you strike well and add much to my gain this day!” Mycroft, the Prince Sherlock's older brother and heir apparent raised a wine goblet and patted his ample purse. “What say you?”

“Prince Mycroft,” Johanna just barely remembered to bow and speak as a man as she spoke, “Clearly the targets are not up the skills of me and they. Me would like _cawlthrice_.”

It took everything Johanna had not to turn around as she heard Tobias curse before he caught himself. Sir Lestrade looked defeated already. The crown prince looked to the three of them and raised a curious brow.

She lowered her head at the considering look that passed over her. She felt incredibly lewd doing so in front of the prince, but it seemed the perfect time to subtly adjust the stocking.

“Cawlthrice has not been done since Prince Sherlock himself last petitioned for it four years ago.” The prince's brother considered it for a moment looking to each of them. He lingers a little longer on Sir Lestrade with a momentary look of pity, apparently having the same reservations of the man's skill against the two of them as the man herself.

“Cawlthrice it is!”

“Thank you, my fair Prince.”

Prince Mycroft had the announcement made to the applause and surprise of the attendees.

“What in God's name do you think you're doing?” Tobias grabbed her by the arm as she walked away. It took a lot to not wince. Her left shoulder had gone from a slight twinge to a noticeable ache.

“Play to the best say you, circles are not our best! Challenge wanted you, challenge have you!!” Johanna spun on him, fury almost making her drop character again that he dares touch her in such a familiar manner! She makes a slight movement with the arm he held. Tobias realizes what he is doing and lets it go, forcing a smile on his face, turning it into a jovial pat on the arm instead.

“You know not what you ask for.” Tobias stalked away as much as his limp would let him. “The game dear Hamish is _on_.”

“I know not the game you two men play,” Sir Lestrade walked over and stood next to Johanna, “but it will almost be worth the loss if the self-assured smirk is removed from that one's countenance. Does he think himself as LeadCourt?”

Johanna grunted an agreement, beginning to wonder at the folly of the rash decision herself.

Several jesters and acrobats entered the field as the court was prepared for cawlthrice, but it was soon apparent all attention was the far wall of the field. Dozens of workers literally put their backs into the wall and heaved upwards lifting it as one. Another man counted out a cadence and barked instructions until the entire wall was up and off the side, behind the stands, opening the field to the land beyond, in effect tripling the length of the field.

Cawlthrice was the equivalent of throwing down a gauntlet. A challenger would call the shot of the opponent and how many shots he can try for it, up to three. Points were determined with each challenge depending upon degree of difficulty. Points doubled if the opponent makes it in the first shot, points tripled thrice if the challenger only allows one shot. The one challenged to single shot has the right to override the challenge and request their three shots at standard point value if desired. As always, side wagers were a part of the purse. The distance alone made most of the challenges difficult. What a challenger may call in turn could easily make or break the game. Most played fairly and Prince Mycroft as the sole royal in attendance had final verdict on if a challenge was deemed unfair. The calls would continue until there was a winner.

When all was ready, Prince Mycroft and several handpicked members of Lead Court took seating at the new opening to have a better view of the game. He nods to the crier who announced the official restart of the game. As the one who called for the cawlthrice Johanna had first call and purposely challenged Sir Lestrade first, much to Tobias’ obvious vexation and Sir Lestrade's amusement.

The first set was always easy, more akin to warm up shots after the delay of setup. The calls were just within the range of the standard field distance, itself.

Chits were drawn for the next set. Tobias would challenge Sir Lestrade, Sir Lestrade to Johanna and her to Tobias. It was obvious in the first round that Johanna was being nice to Sir Lestrade. Tobias would have none of it. His challenge was clearly meant to remove the man from the competition. Sir Lestrade surprised them all, especially himself by meeting it.

Sir Lestrade in turn gave Johanna just enough of a challenge to make it interesting, but not enough that she could not easily make the mark. Johanna stepped to Tobias and simply pointed to a tree in the distance. Tobias followed her finger and laughed.

“Surely you jape, Hamish?” He asked knowing she did not. Johanna shrugged in a way that pointed in the general direction of an announcer as if to indicate he could always forfeit, knowing he would not. Johanna watched grimly as he took aim at the knot in the tree that was in question. It was almost as if nature had made a natural target of the thing challenging anyone to strike.

Tobias’ first arrow flew past the tree altogether much to the Lead Court's amusement.

His second at least hit the tree.

“Looks as though the smile is taken from him at last!” Sir Lestrade smiled to Johanna. Johanna shook her head in negation, she knew better.

Tobias glances only briefly in her direction before simply lifting his bow and firing, appearing as if he had not aimed at all.

He hits the mark, as she knew he would. The crowd cheers.

The three go on for another set and yet another. The strain on Sir Lestrade was noticeable as he barely makes his last challenge.

Chits are again drawn, Johanna to Sir Lestrade, Sir Lestrade to Tobias then Tobias to Johanna.

“Sir Lestrade forgive us.” Johanna sighs picking up her bow.

“Here is where I lose, no?” The nobleman sigha at what he knew was inevitable. Johanna gave him a rough pat on the back.

“You've held up well, further than I would have given you credit for.” Tobias adds sincerely.

“But this fight is between you two.” Sir Lestrade nods grimly turning to Johanna. “Make it good show of it my dear fellow and perhaps we three will meet again next Festival.”

Johanna gave what was becoming her signature grunt.

Sir Lestrade took position and Johanna gave him a challenge that would require him to crouch, not his best position. Still, the determination as he took aim was impressive. Unfortunately, it was not enough as all three of his shots went wild. Good-natured applause went around the crowd as he departed to go sit with the other archers who wished to take seat and watch until the end of the tournament as is custom.

Tobias and Johanna went three more rounds. It was beginning to take its toll. 

Johanna’s arms were beginning to feel like rubber. The tight binding flattening her breasts was near excruciating after three days. Worse, her left shoulder had gone from a dull ache beginning to actual pain.

She knows from his last shot; Tobias is also feeling the strain.

It was almost a dance as they circled each other.

“Call it.” He snarled at her. “Try to make it something I cannot do in my sleep.”

“We speak as one who suddenly had a painful rock removed from one's sole. That last rest has done wonders for your gait, sir.” Johanna snarled back. His momentary flinch was all the confirmation needed.

“Call it.” His voice was dangerously low.

Johanna knew she was pushing her luck with someone who had her fate in his hands. He could easily grab her and remove her hood now in front of all. Not only would she lose her purse, but very much any chance of again opening shop again anywhere near the citadel. This was a level of brazen simply unheard of. The disgrace would be unbearable from that alone. Add to it the gall to disguise herself as a man and enter the tournament, she might as well set up her shop in the Shallows with the concubines. She may be able to eek out a living there if she were lucky. No, she could not think like that, she would crumble for sure. He wants a challenge, she will give him one.

Johanna called an apple on a tree a good distance away – one shot. The main judge came over and the three conferred until it was understood exactly which apple on which tree. They waited as the main judge signaled to the other judges out in the field. Johanna watched the silent communication as they moved into the correct positions to view of the call.

The judge nods to Tobias.

All is ready.

Johanna stands very close to Tobias as he lifts his bow. She glances at his lips partially shielded by his dark beard and something clicks in her mind.

“Your natural walk is much better than that false limp, en honrae.” She whispers coyly in her own voice, addressing him as one in LeadCourt should be addressed, “Hopefully, that rock has not ruined that proud _princely_ stride.”

Johanna saw a vein start throbbing violently in his neck, just below his ear. Having seen that vein previously, were she not sure before, she was certain of the identity of the hooded _stranger_ now.

Prince Sherlock!


	3. The Showdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the revelation of their true identities, Johanna as Hamish and Prince Sherlock as Tobias, the stakes are raised as they play the final rounds. The prince offers a threat on one hand, and an impressive olive branch, but with one hell of a catch with the other. With all of it resting on one shot Johanna is forced to make a life changing choice.

The prince raised his head just enough to give veracity to Johanna’s words. Johanna stepped back to give room. One for him to make his shot or just in case he forgot his own guise and went after her. She doubted she would get far, his long legs would eventually overtake hers, but she wanted a chance at a running start. It was not with a small sigh of relief that gave her the slightest respite as he raised his bow.

He made the shot on the first arrow, but the relief on his face was a sign of just how hard it had been for him. They stared at the apple as it swung wildly on the tree, his arrow not having enough force left to break it from the branch. 

“Final call.” He challenged her directly, “Winner take all.”

Knowing she knew, he adjusted his hood slightly and she raised her own head high enough that they looked into each other’s eyes in the shadow of their respective hoods. As always, she was temporarily mesmerized the mercurial eyes with raised brow that bore into her dark azure. The eyes that have done little but caused vexation, since the day they met flashed before he lowered his head again.

“Take all of what?” she breathed finding her voice again.

“Make this shot. I will not bother you again physician.” Prince Sherlock tilted his head slightly, “You can have your life as you see fit – keep your cover with your friend, I will not entreat your favor again. I will commend your seamstress skills to all I note worthy of them. You will be renowned faster through me, than on your own. I will double your winning purse which I presume is more than enough of the coinage needed in replacement for your home and your tools for fashion and otherwise.”

Johanna nearly swayed from the fact that he knows of her healing skills as from the amount of monies promised of such she could not begin to fathom. It was all to keep enough of her wits ask the obvious.

“And if I miss, my prince?”

“I may be so cruel as to reveal you – and you lose all.” His voice had dropped to a level that even the threat could not douse the flare of heat within her.

She did not doubt his words.

Johanna’s possible joy immediately replaced by serious fear as she waited somehow knowing there was more.

“Or...” The prince continued, “If you miss, you _will_ say yes when I offer…”

Anger flared hot within her as she thought over the several times in which she had rejected his offers to engage in an outing with him. 

_That he would use this as a means to get his way!..._

“You would reveal me to all for a …” Johanna began. 

“… my hand to you in marriage.” He finished the sentence as though she had not interrupted him. 

Johanna was completely stunned. Her slight gasp the only sign she heard him.

"I do not love you. I do not want you. This you know!" She hissed careful to keep her voice low and in character.

“It is little secret my mother abhorred my father at their wedding. Thus, love is not a requirement, and I care not for such things. Love is incredibly simple, and very destructive. Its supposed lack from you is both an amusement and an enticement.”

Johanna was rendered speechless as his words sank in, furious at her life being so out of her control. She gritted her teeth and forced herself to silence for she had almost screamed.

“Ohhh, I dare say, _healer_ , this newfound quiet of yours is delightful.” The prince’s pleasure at her frustration would not be hidden.

“You dare!!” Johanna hissed, realized it was her natural voice and clamped her mouth shut. Prince Sherlock simply watched amused as she willed herself to control.

“Do we have an understanding, my…lady?” He asked slowly, a threat in his voice.

Johanna wanted to do nothing more at that moment than run, but they both knew she would not, even if she could.

“Do we have an understanding...?” He repeated, as the judge and the announcer walked toward them.

Johanna grunted in the affirmative and tried to walk away.

“No, I want to hear your words and make it quick!” He blocked her path.

“Yes, you utter, utter cock, yes!” She snarled and brushed past him harshly, her fury only belatedly had her realize what she just said.

_I just cursed the Prince! Again!_

It took everything to not fall to her knees and plead for forgiveness before him knowing it would expose them both.

_How does he keep making me do that?_

Johanna shook with suppressed rage as she took position at center ground and waited. She could not believe her entire life comes down to the shot of an arrow. One she was not supposed to know how to use in the first place! Sheer determination keeps her from screaming from the unfairness of it all. She heard the men confer behind her and their laughter reached her. A movement in the distance caught her attention, just as the men disperse.

The announcer called out to the crowd as the judge walked to a spot near the target. She blinked when she heard the call announced and looks up. Tobias - the prince wanted her to shoot down the apple she had him shoot. It had to be shot from the stem, the apple itself must stay as is.

 _God!_ _It swings in the breeze from your arrow still impaled in it!_

“Breathe. Follow the pattern of the swing, anticipate and aim.” The prince said from over her shoulder as if having read her thoughts.

Johanna startled in surprise at his nearness. She had not heard him approach.

_He is giving me advice to make the shot?_

She inwardly sighed with relief; he wanted her to make the shot, he did not want her as his bride after all! That is not to say he would not reveal her still. He could simply be rattling her nerves.

_Were that the case, it is a deed done well, Prince._

Prince Sherlock walked away to stand next to the main judge as the others took their place and watched her. There was no need to watch the apple. It would either fall if she made the shot, or she lost.

It was just her, her bow and her life, in her hands.

Johanna felt a line of sweat that trickled slowly down her cheek. Another so achingly slow traversed her spine and the wrapping around her body seem even more binding. She bit hard on her bottom lip, in refusal to give in to any irritant. There would be countless others to break her concentration if she did; there was no time for that now.

She took a few deep breaths and stared hard at the target. Watched the movement that had her attention. It was going to be a near impossible shot and a life stood on the balance.

_Yours or mine?_

She felt the prince’s eyes on her as she steadied her stance, lifted her bow.

She set the target in her sight.

Aimed.

Released.

Johanna fell to one knee as the crowd collectively jumped to its feet as the winner is officially declared. 

The apple still swung in the tree.

It was not her.

The prince grabbed her by the shoulder, pulled her to her feet.

“You missed!”

“Did I now?” She asked bitterly and pulled away from his grasp. She knew the Prince was about to say more, confused at her behavior, but Sir Lestrade, as third place winner, was among the first to run onto the field and greet them.

“Good show! Good show, fellow archers!”

Sir Lestrade had used his waiting time in the stand to drink, considerably and it showed. “You certainly gave this one a good run!” He pounded Tobias hard on the back. Even in her misery, Johanna took a slight pleasure in the prince’s obvious displeasure at the jovial contact.

Johanna merely grunted responses as the crowd thickened. She was barely able to hold on to her hood as Prince Sherlock jovially put an arm around her and Sir Lestrade and made show of it as he spun the three of them in a seemingly celebratory dance of sorts. It was just enough to keep the crowd from pressing in closer and she was grateful until she saw the winner stand pulled into place in front of the relocated LeadCourt stand.

Winners received a cash purse, but first they must present themselves to the LeadCourt stand and receive the ribbon with golden arrows according to how they ranked, placed over their heads. As the only royal in attendance, Heir Prince Mycroft would be presenting the award. It would be an extreme insult to not show your face to a royal. Johanna never dreamed to make it this far in the tournament; it would not have come to this had she bowed out earlier as planned.

Unable to speak over the din of the cheering crowd, Johanna grabbed the prince’s sleeve in a panic. He followed her gaze and immediately saw the problem.

She just barely made out his lips as he silently mouthed one word:

“Go!”

He let go of her shoulder and yelled for all to head to the winners’ stand. With their eyes on the raucous Tobias and Lestrade, Johanna stayed facing forward as she solely moved backwards and let the rushing crowd mill around and past her. It was surprisingly easy, how little attention she was paid.

_Everyone wants to follow the winner, after all._

She had no choice but to sacrifice her bow and quiver as she ducked around several arms. She could be seen with them as her natural self. She deftly reached under her hood and pulled loose the cords that hold her sandy blond hair. By the time she reached the thinner ends of the crowd, she has managed to release her hair and started on the buttons of her doublet.

A sudden cheer went up among the crowd and Johanna turned to look.

Prince Sherlock had reached the winners’ stand and revealed himself to the crowd. She just made it to her knees in time to not be conspicuous.

Prince Mycroft’s roar of laughter is heard as he descended the steps of the Lead Court stand to join his brother as everyone else rose from their knees. Johanna quickly rose and headed for the exit as planned. She realized then that Prince Mycroft had indeed recognized his younger brother under the disguise after all when they had stood before him earlier.

She is near the exit, when Prince Sherlock called for quiet to make an announcement. Johanna stopped and turned, curiosity getting the better of her.

Prince Sherlock's natural baritone carries clearly over the crowd as he announces his intent to marry.

_No! Surely, he had made jest to taunt!_

Johanna nearly swooned on the spot as he teases the crowd.

_She is someone known to several in Lead Court._

_She is a beauty in disguise._

_She is not far from him now._

“By the graces, he cannot be serious!” She gasped astounded.

“Why can he not? Oh my word you smell not yourself!” Michelle Stamford, in her magical way has appeared yet again when Johanna needed her most. Her friend quickly removed the heavy overskirt she wore, flipped it over and wrapped it around Johanna’s breeches. Her hair now loose, she quickly flipped around the unbuttoned doublet, so it appeared as a hooded open vest over the blouson seen underneath. With her man’s garb swiftly transformed to that of a simple dress of the under caste, Johanna relaxed a little. A casual observer would at least know she is a woman and readily dismissed her as the serving woman to the better dressed Michelle, both mere spectators to the waning event. Luckily, all eyes were on the princes at the winner stand and not her when a new commotion was heard.

_By the Gods!_

In her haste to leave, Johanna had almost forgotten what she had done. She removed her hood, shook her sweat dampened hair out.

_Oh, to be free of these binds and a bath!_

“What are you doing?” Michelle reached for the hood to put it back.

“No, he needs to see me.” Johanna stayed her friend’s hand.

“Who needs to see you?” Michelle asked confused.

“Prince Sherlock.” Johanna stated matter of fact. She leaned against a post and pointed as a portion of the crowd at the opposite end of the field parted.

One of the field judges carried a snake.

Snakes in and around the field are not common, but nor were they a rarity. However, a poisonous snake with an arrow through its head was most unusual.

“Why is he carrying a dead snake?” Michelle raised up on her toes to see.

“Perhaps it finally fell out of the tree after the arrow pierced its head.” Johanna shrugged. “Or it bled on the judge. I am unsure.”

“And what in the world does it have to do…” Michelle began, but Johanna shushed her.

A stir began in the crowd as people started to look around for something, or specifically someone.

The mysteriously missing Hamish of the Plains.

Someone holds up the broken quiver. Another raises the bow.

_It is still intact! The crowd did not break it in its trampling. Thank you!_

Johanna heart catches at the sight of them, the relief nearly made her dizzy. She felt as Michelle grabbed her arm. It was the only thing that kept her from moving forward to claim them.

All eyes either looked at the ownerless quiver and bow, or searched for Hamish, except Prince Sherlock’s, whose eyes immediately found Johanna.

The prince, the announcers and the judges’ eyes were all on the target apple. Johanna noticed the snake in the tree. She was not sure, but it looked as though it was slowly headed in the direction of one of the line judges. Since she was challenged to the one shot, one shot was all she had. Her choice was either to shoot for the apple that she may or may not have hit to potentially save her own life or shoot for the snake which she knew she could hit to save someone else’s. The snake had been pinned and did not immediately fall, thus all anyone knew was that she had missed her shot. The rules of the tournament do not allow for acts of kindness. In the field of battle, that one would have been considered a miss, regardless of why. Thus, a loss was still a loss. She saw no need to call attention to her deed. 

_“You missed!” “Did I now?”_

She knew she made the right choice.

And now Prince Sherlock also knew. 

The prince made a disparaging a joke at Hamish’s expense, but it stopped eyes from searching as he accepted the dropped bow and quiver and slung it over his shoulder with his own. He touched his purse as inclined his head once to her and then returned his attention to the crowd.

Johanna returned his acknowledgement with a short nod of her own, “He makes jest!"

She breathed a sigh of relief knowing they will be returned to her and she would have her shop again within a few moons. 

"Makes jest of Hamish, yes, but lies he does not when of import. Me thinks a declaration of betrothal is of import." Michelle said thoughtfully ignorant of the glare of her best friend.

"He. Jests. Say I," Johanna enunciated carefully and turned away, "Let us take leave of here. I have need of bath, I will explain.”

Johanna quickly left, Michelle with a flurry of questions, fast behind her.


End file.
